


when thestrals fly

by writingpenguin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M, in need of a beta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingpenguin/pseuds/writingpenguin
Summary: A wand is pointed towards him, threateningly unsteady; the golden tone of the wood subtly glows with the barely restrained power of its wielder. It is a familiar sight that he fondly remembers with awe, but never has he once imagined that it would be turned against him. Pear, dragon heartstring, 10 ½ inches. Yuuri knows this wand almost as well as he knows his own.





	when thestrals fly

_ “Who are you?” _

A wand is pointed towards him, threateningly unsteady; the golden tone of the wood subtly glows with the barely restrained power of its wielder. It is a familiar sight that he fondly remembers with awe, but never has he once imagined that it would be turned against him.  _ Pear, dragon heartstring, 10 ½ inches.  _ Yuuri knows this wand almost as well as he knows his own.  

Yuuri feels confused—so heartbreakingly bewildered at the thought of  _ this _ wand cursing him, and his gaze shifts to its wizard, searching for anything that could tell him  _ why _ . He slowly raises his hands in a clear show of surrender. This is a sign of trust. (He would never intentionally hurt the man before him, and before this day, he thought that the same applied to him.)

“What’s going on?” he dares to ask, his voice carrying a slight tremble. 

Yuuri worries. The man before him is completely unlike what he recalls—the long silvery locks he remembers have been shorn off, and what remains has so obviously been uncared for, leaving a disheveled mess; his face is gaunt with grief, his skin uncharacteristically pale. His normally bright blue eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Victor Nikiforov is a shadow of the person he once was, and Yuuri has no idea why. 

Victor’s stormy gaze narrows, and Yuuri immediately takes notice of the chill in the room, of the complete silence of the space around him, of his instincts telling him to  _ run run run.  _

“I am only asking you one more time,” Victor hisses menacingly, digging his wand onto Yuuri’s chest.  _ "Who are you?" _

Yuuri’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Vitya?” 

Victor winces, looking so pained at the intimate form of address, and Yuuri wants to hurriedly go to his side to comfort him amidst the confusion. But suddenly, everything seems so sluggish and muddled. His head is a web of cotton. His ears hear muffled static. And here, Yuuri pleads and wars with this distorted version of reality, “It’s me, Vitya. Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri!”

He gasps. The wind is forcibly knocked out of him as his back slams against the wall. He groans, sliding to the floor, and looks up fearfully to the other wizard. There’s something so obviously wrong here, and his magic itches. (Yuuri will not draw his wand. Not against Victor.  _ Never against Victor.) _

“Don’t you dare,” Victor whispers hoarsely. “My husband is  _ dead." _

Yuuri stills, horror flooding into him. “What?” 

Yuuri watches the soft shine of a worn wedding ring worn by a hand clenched tightly around a wand. 

“Katsuki Yuuri died two years ago. Do you honestly believe that you can come into my house wearing his face and disgracing his name?” Victor’s face contorts in cold fury. 

_ Dead? How am I-? Victor? “ _ I’m right here, Victor. Ask—ask me anything! I’m Yuuri. I’m here. Please, Vitya!” Yuuri scrambles, his foggy mind blindly racing as he instinctively lifts his arms up in futile defense. 

Victor stares. “What is that?”

Yuuri follows his line of vision and realization strikes him. He slowly raises his hand, his own golden band glinting into the light. “Victor, I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s me.  _ It’s me.  _ I swear it on my magic and on this ring with which I have made my vows to in Barcelona.”

Victor falters, and the tears he was holding at bay fall. The beginnings of hope and fear course through him, and he manages to choke out, “Y-Yuuri? How–?” 

Relief floods into Yuuri, and he shuts his eyes for a brief moment. At the very least, his husband has started to believe him. “It’s me, Vitya. You enchanted the rings yourself. My magic holds true.”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeats.

Yuuri nods. His mind is beginning to clear. He breathes, opening his eyes and freezes. The wand is aimed at him again. 

“V-Victor–?”

Yuuri has seen sorrow painting the faces of those in the war, ageing and graying them into an almost oblivion. This is not sorrow. When he speaks Victor’s name, he sees desolation. 

_ "Stupefy.” _

**Author's Note:**

> This is a different take that I'm working on an HP AU! I'd love to hear feedback hahaha. I'm not sure how far I'm willing to go for this piece yet.


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